


Ever Enough

by glim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't cast spells like Gaius, and he can't scry, can't shape the present or see the future like his sisters, and he can't call upon the dragon-magic like Merlin can, but Arthur can do this: he can keep his partner safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tracionn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracionn/gifts).



Arthur kneels down by the sofa and touches Merlin's hair, brushing it off his forehead with the tip of one finger. Merlin stirs, blinks at Arthur, and gives him a tired smile.

"Hey."

"Hey, you." Arthur returns the smile and strokes his finger down the side of Merlin's face. He still looks pale and exhausted, but the glassy, fever-brightness of yesterday seems to have faded from his eyes. "Do you feel like you can wake up for a little while? Just to eat and drink something."

Merlin nods, but he turns his face into the pillow a moment later and shivers. The chills wrack his body for a few moments, and Arthur cannot stop himself from sliding an arm around Merlin, pressing himself closer to Merlin, and murmuring quietly into his ear. 

"Shh, there, it's fine. Ssh. You're warming up already," he says. Arthur rubs his hand up and down Merlin's back through the blanket and presses a kiss to Merlin's ear as the shivering calms. "There. I have soup and tea for you, that'll help, right?"

Merlin turns his face from the pillow to face Arthur and this time gives a small, unsteady nod. "I think so." 

"Alright." Arthur leans in close once more, so his face touches Merlin's, and they stay close and quiet until Merlin's breath is steady and Arthur's ready to let him rest on his own again. "Right. I'll just be right back."

"Arthur. I'll be fine." Merlin gives him a little nudge and he sits up on the sofa when Arthur moves away. He really does look awful still, not just pale and tired, but there are dark circles under his eyes, and fatigue lines his face. 

He looks thinner, too. Delicate. Fragile, Arthur thinks, though he _knows_ , he knows this isn't true. He heart clenches, however, to see Merlin like this, and his fists, too. If he could walk out into the world, walk out of his tiny flat into the middle of the city and find whatever and whoever did this to Merlin, he would. And he would make sure that it never happened again, that Merlin would never come back to him, dull-eyed and weak, his magic only a faint spark. 

Merlin won't tell him. How it happened, when it happened, where or why or by whom. Arthur knows this, too: that Merlin is only trying to protect, to keep him safe, to save him for... for what, though? It's been years and years since Albion has recognized the names of du Bois or Pendragon and Arthur is certain there is nobody alive today who can remember what they used to mean. 

Not that Arthur lets them remember; he took Merlin's name as soon as he could, as soon as he knew, deep in his heart, that his own name was a secret that he had to keep and that Merlin was the only person whom he could trust to keep that secret, too. 

Having magic was one thing; having the last remnants of royal blood was another. Or so Merlin claims. Arthur had come to doubt its importance, though he never doubted his decision to trade his own name for Merlin's.

Arthur warms Merlin's vegetable soup until it's as hot as he can get it, and he prepares tea the way Merlin likes it best: strong, with honey and milk. He makes himself a sandwich, but he makes that the way Merlin prefers it, too, hoping he can get Merlin to eat half with him. He'd had some of Arthur's rice and stir-fry last night as they watched television, before curling himself into Arthur's side and sleeping for the rest of the film. Breakfast, too, this morning, was much the same: half of Arthur's toast and fruit, and then more sleep.

Of course, sleep is the only thing that really seems to help. Merlin eats because Arthur asks him to eat, Arthur knows that and he's more grateful for it than he can say. 

"Vegetable soup, chicken salad on toast, and tea. I told you I could manage meals on my own." Arthur puts the tray down on the table in front of the sofa and settles himself into nest of blankets and pillows on the bed next to Merlin. 

Merlin laughs, the sound low and hoarse, and rests his head against Arthur's shoulder. "I'm still waiting for you to actually cook something."

"Dinner last night--"

"--doesn't count. You dropped leftovers into a skillet." Merlin laughs again, though, and he presses a kiss to Arthur's shoulder. "Thank you," he murmurs. 

The kiss warms Arthur and some of the tightness and worry in Arthur's chest eases. "I wish--"

"No." Merlin kisses him again and slides an arm around Arthur to rest hand on Arthur's chest. "You're doing enough."

"I could ring Gaius, though? Or your Mum and Dad?"

Merlin shakes his head. "They'll just worry for no reason. And they'll tell you the same thing. It's just how magic works. I need to rest." 

"But what if you need one of them? Magic needs--"

"--magic, yes." Merlin undoes the a few of the buttons of Arthur's white oxford, rests his hand over Arthur's heart, and hugs Arthur close against his side. 

Arthur can feel it again, that sudden, familiar sensation, the one that only Merlin can bring to his mind and body. Gold-warm and glowing, it touches his fingertips and his lips, his heart and his hands. He kisses Merlin, gently at first, then more firmly, and touches his forehead to Merlin's. 

"You have magic," Merlin says.

"Not much." Royal blood, Arthur thinks, passed down from the house of du Bois, his mother's house, his mother's blood and her magic. 

"Enough." 

He can't cast spells like Gaius, and he can't scry, can't shape the present or see the future like his sisters, and he can't call upon the dragon-magic like Merlin can, but Arthur can do this: he can keep his partner safe. That last flicker of magic, the bright snap of gold inside him, he'll use it for Merlin, to keep him from flickering and fading when he depletes his magic this far. He has enough magic for that.

"Just enough," Arthur replies. 

The feeling fades from his chest when Merlin slides his hand away from Arthur, but Merlin looks better, eyes brighter and his face less wan. He catches Arthur's eye as he draws away, then smiles and ducks his head. 

"Your soup's going to get cold," Merlin says. 

Arthur shakes his head and reaches for their lunch. "Only because you distracted me," he replies, and thinks, yes, it'll be enough. It will have to be enough.


End file.
